The Story of Us
by lickitysplit
Summary: A girl named Elizabeth meets a blond stranger. Again. A new twist (I hope) on an old story, set in present day. PART TWO NOW POSTED!
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** A girl named Elizabeth meets a blond stranger. Again. A new twist (I hope) on an old story.

 **A/N:** Welcome to this oneshot! This is a modern AU... well, a twist on a modern AU. It's set in modern times, anyway. It's up to you to decide if it's an AU or not.

I need to publish this quickly before **woundedowl** finds me (looks around nervously... whew coast is clear) but before I do I must thank **fandomtrashpanda** for being so very kind as to read this through and share her thoughts. And as always I must thank the talented **Vetur02** for allowing me to use her artwork for this story.

This one I wrote quickly, in a burst of insanity as I neglected more important things. I hope you enjoy, and thank you for reading.

* * *

"You're one of the charmed ones," her father would tell her.

"The fairies must like you," her mother would say.

And it was true, she had always felt like there was… something. Something watching her, something waiting. Maybe a someone? She could never be sure, except that she was never really alone.

When she was five, she had gotten separated from her mother in the department store. There was a funny kid making faces at her as her mother looked through racks of coats, and she had stepped around one after another to watch the little boy. Then he left with his own mother, and she realized that hers was no longer in sight.

She had been to this store many times before, but she found herself seized with fear, too paralyzed to move or speak. But then a firm hand took hers and pulled her through the racks, around the shoe display, past menswear, until she saw the familiar brown bob talking frantically to a security guard.

"Mom!" she had shouted, running forward, and by the time she remembered about the hand she was home with a cookie and milk.

When she was eleven, an older kid had stolen her backpack. Her house key and a few dollars were inside, and she was panicked about what to do. She chased him, but he was quicker, disappearing over a neighbor's fence with a whoop and a few curses. With tears of frustration she hurried home, praying that one of her parents would be there.

It had even started to rain, and she said a few choice words herself; something she had heard on television; something she knew would probably get her grounded. She had been muttering so angrily to herself that she did not see her backpack waiting for her on the top step, sitting right in front of the door, nearly tripping right over it.

There were little things, too.

Needing a few dollars for a tank of gas until she got paid tomorrow, and finding a twenty dollar bill on the ground next to her car; forgetting her shin guards for soccer, which meant she would be benched _again_ , only to discover them in the front compartment of her bag; a doll returned that had been missing; a flyer on her windshield (and no one else's) for a band she liked playing that weekend; something in the road holding up the school bus an extra few minutes and allowing her to make it just in time.

When she was little, she thought it was her fairy godmother. She would pray for all sorts of things, like for mom to make brownies for dinner or for a freak snowstorm to cancel school in April when she forgot her math homework. Later she called it her guardian angel. When she was older, she didn't know what it was exactly, and thought that it was luck, or the universe. So she tried to do good in return, and be kind and generous and helpful, as a way to say thank you.

* * *

"Hey, Elizabeth, look."

She was rinsing out containers, so when Erin hissed her name, she didn't pay attention until an elbow poked her arm. Turning off the water, she shook her hands over the sink and looked over her shoulder.

"What is it?"

"That guy is back again." Erin had her arms folded, her eyes narrowed as she stared straight ahead.

"What guy?" she asked. Erin tilted her head down to indicate the blonde sitting on the other side of the shop. She turned and followed her gaze to the messy head of hair, his back turned towards them, a book in one hand.

"What's wrong with him?" She asked with a frown.

"He's always in here. He sits all day and barely leaves a tip," Erin huffed, blowing her bangs from her forehead. "Haven't you ever noticed?"

"Not really." She peered down at her friend out the corner of her eye. "Do you want me to take his table?"

"Do you mind? I'm just gonna be nasty to him."

Laughing, she dried her hands on a towel. "No problem. You do the counter for a minute."

They switched places easily, and she grabbed a notepad on her way around the counter.

"Can I get you something?" she asked, looking down through her long bangs.

The green eyes that looked back at her in surprise startled her. His face was so youthful, she would guess he was maybe eighteen— _maybe_ —but his eyes… She shivered slightly and cleared her throat. "Do you…?" What was she asking?

"I'll take a coffee, extra sugar." She blinked, nodding, still staring at those eyes.

Suddenly her mind was filled with a story about them: a hero with a past, searching for something through lifetimes, and with a little huff she began to frantically jot down ideas and bits of dialogue that floated by her consciousness.

A minute later her pad was filled with words and she gave a shaking laugh. It was a classic story, for sure, but there was something special about this one. It was going to be perfect for her writing class. With a grin she looked up to find those green eyes still on her.

"That was a lot of writing for a coffee extra sweet!" He laughed.

"Oh! Sorry!" she stammered, her breath rushing out nervously. "I'll get it for you, I'll be right back!" Her breath came out as a shaky chuckle, and she quickly ran behind the counter before she could humiliate herself any more.

* * *

A glance at the clock told her it was way too late to be up, the room dark except for the glow of her laptop. She stretched her back a bit, sighing in satisfaction at the progress she had made. It was one of those writing sessions where the words simply flowed, and she was excited to have done so much, even as she stifled a yawn. She had class in five hours… now the question was to go to bed, or just stay up?

 _Bed_ , she decided, quickly turning off the light and pulling the covers up. Yet while _bed_ was easy, _sleep_ was not, and she found herself staring into the darkness, thinking about the story she was writing. It was not her usual fare at all: heroes and bad guys and a beautiful girl who made it all worth it.

She preferred writing about _real_ things, things that really had happened to her, things a reader could relate to. But her professor had been on her case about expanding her writing, so she supposed that a fantasy would be in the right direction.

She laughed to herself as she started to relax. Fantasy novels were not something she had ever been able to get into. It all seemed so silly, too escapist for her taste. She wanted her writing to be meaningful. She wanted to _be_ meaningful.

But before she drifted off to sleep, she remembered that she had had a bit of fantasy in her life, hadn't she? Her guardian angel or fairy godmother or super secret universe friend had always come through. So before she finally closed her eyes, she made the first wish in a very long time: _please don't let me be late tomorrow._

* * *

She was late, very late.

She had been late for class, late for study group, late for the _next_ class, and now running into the coffee shop ten minutes late for her shift.

"Sorry, sorry," she muttered, quickly tying on an apron and stashing her purse. "This rain—"

"Yeah yeah," Erin interrupted, waving off the excuse. "I don't think John even noticed. But you got a customer."

She had been pulling out supplies to restock the counter, but quickly looked up to follow her friend's gaze. The familiar blond hair was back, even still reading a book. "Are you serious?" she sighed.

Erin gave her a pointed look. "I told you, he tips like shit. Plus I always feel like he's staring at my chest."

"Oh, but he can stare at mine?" she laughed with a roll of her eyes. But Erin was not backing down, so with a sigh she went over to take the order.

Usually the shop was busy in the rain as people ducked inside to dry off and get warm, but the only customers were the blond and his companion at the table. Her brow went up a bit as she approached, the new guy looking half dead as he leaned back asleep in his chair, his hair a weird blue and spiked all over.

"He's fine," the blond said in response to her unanswered question, putting his book down. "He's just tired."

"Oh! Uh…" She glanced over again. "If you say so. What can I get you?"

"Coffee, extra sugar," he answered with a grin.

She tapped her pen on the notebook. "I should have remembered that. I'll be right back."

Carefully she carried the order over and laid it down on the table. With a blush she glanced down to see he was discreetly looking at her chest while she was bent over, but she supposed she couldn't _exactly_ fault him for that. "Anything else?"

"How about your name?" he asked. He flashed her a beautiful smile that instantly made her happy, but she simply laughed and tucked her hair behind her left ear.

"I don't think so."

"How about I try to guess it then?" he replied, his smile widening a bit.

"Guess my name?" she laughed, and then was startled when his sleeping companion muttered, "Cap, what are ya doin?"

"Just talking to…" He looked up and pursed his lips. "Margaret?"

She laughed. "Nope, not even close."

* * *

He was back for her next shift, and then the next, and the next. Erin told her he didn't usually come in unless she was working, always showing up about a half hour before she was due in. It was odd, certainly, but nothing to be alarmed about, she told herself.

Each shift was another coffee with extra sugar, and another guess at her name.

"Sarah?"

"No."

"Theresa?"

"Nope."

"Catalina?"

That one made her laugh. "Like the salad dressing?" she asked as she placed the cup down.

He shrugged. "People name their kids weird things."

"It's not Catalina."

As she walked away, he called after her, "What am I gonna get when I guess it right?"

A few other customers looked up, and she blushed. She walked back over and folded her arms. "You'll have my name," she said.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"Huh." He turned away from her then, blowing on the coffee before bringing it to his lips. She watched him for a moment before heading back behind the counter.

Erin was off, so she was working with Lisa that day. "I think he likes you," she laughed.

"What?"

"Him." Lisa nodded over towards the blond. "You should tell him your name."

She shook her head. "Not interested."

* * *

She let go a deep breath and looked up expectantly. Most of her classmates were smiling back, a few even nodding. She bit her lip as her chest swelled a bit. The chapter she had just read aloud to the class seemed to have gone over well.

With heat rising on her cheeks, she looked nervously at her professor, who was sitting on the side at his desk. Several excruciating moments of silence went by before he finally cleared his throat. "Well, Elizabeth," he said, "that was certainly a departure from your normal writing."

Nodding, she answered, "Yes, I… I wanted to do something—something different? And I had this idea and—"

"It's rather disappointing," he interrupted. "Usually your writing is so personal, so _real_. This is… well, I could pick this book up on any rack in any drugstore, honestly."

The heat on her cheeks flared to an actual fire under her skin. She tried to choke out a response, but the professor went on, "The concept is fine, but the characters? The plot? It's just one trope after another."

Still no words came out, her heart positively at her knees. He waved her to sit down. "Go back and do some rereading, I'm sure you'll see what I mean. You should go back to making your writing more personal, instead of—whatever this was."

She nodded and hurried to her seat, refusing to look at anyone, unable to even listen to the next student who stood and read aloud. Her ears burned and her throat burned, and when they were finally dismissed she practically ran from the room. She headed towards the coffee shop, an hour early for her shift, but needing something to do to escape the words that raced furiously through her mind.

Erin started to ask but she just shook her head in answer. Quickly she began washing containers, refilling napkin holders, wiping tables, anything to keep her moving and focused and stop the heat from rising behind her eyes. A half hour later, she was cleaning out one of the coffee decanters when Erin slid up next to her. "Not sure if this is a good time," she said, "but blondie just walked in. Do you want me to—"

"No, it's fine," she said curtly. She replaced the filter and filled it with coffee grounds, and once the water started heating she grabbed her pad and headed to the table.

It wasn't just blondie this time, but his blue-haired friend was back too. They looked so comical together that if it had been any other day, she might have teased him a bit. Today, however, she simply said, "Do you want the same?"

"Yeah, thanks… Catherine?" he smiled.

She heaved a sigh and looked at his friend. "Do you want something too?"

Before he could answer, the blond exclaimed, "Is it Catherine? Did I get it right?"

"No," she snapped, not bothering to look, gritting her teeth in aggravation. "Do you want something?"

He did not answer, just snorted and leaned over the table. "Why are ya torturing her? Just say your peace."

"I'm _not_ torturing her," he answered. "Am I, Evelyn?"

With a huff she turned and stormed away. She was nearly shaking as she filled two cups of coffee, dumping the sugar in them haphazardly. "Are they bothering you?" Erin asked when she spied her frustration.

"No, no, it's not—it's just this day, it's—" She heaved a breath, mortified to feel the humiliation return with a vengeance, the hot sting reaching from her throat to the corner of her eyes. "Can you take these over? Do you mind? I just need to—"

"Yeah, no problem," said Erin, concern plain in her voice.

She walked through the shop and went out the back door. The cool air felt good on her burning skin, despite how chilly it was outside in mid-autumn. Slowly she breathed in and out, trying to calm her nerves, blinking rapidly to will away the tears. After a minute she realized how futile it was going to be, and decided to just give herself over to sobbing.

But before she could do that, a now-familiar voice said, "You okay?" She jumped a mile and whirled on the blond, furiously wiping at her damp cheeks.

"What is your problem?" she exclaimed.

"Nothing, sorry," he answered, holding up his palms. "I thought you looked upset and I wanted to see if you were okay."

"Well I'm _not_ okay, but thanks for pointing that out," she snapped. She folded her arms and looked at him furiously. "What do you want?"

He shrugged. "Nothing really. Want to tell me about it?"

Giving a harsh laugh, she shook her head. "Not really."

"Is it me?"

She looked at him strangely and shook her head. "No, it's—my writing class." She heaved a sigh and looked up, watching a dark cloud roll by. "I had to read something I wrote today and my professor—let's just say he wasn't impressed."

"So you're a writer?"

She looked over, shrugging one shoulder. "I guess. Trying to be."

"Huh." Their eyes met again, and she remembered seeing them for the first time, and that's how the whole thing even got started. She blinked in confusion, thrown by the irony of the situation; and even now, as she stared into the green eyes, she could remember the thrill of that moment, the way the ideas had taken root inside of her. She thought of saying something, of asking him about it, but before she could he said, "I'm sure it'll work out, Elizabeth. I can't imagine you failing at anything."

"How do you—" Suddenly she huffed out a laugh, narrowing her eyes a bit. "You guessed it right." He frowned and she went on, "My name. It's Elizabeth."

"Is it?" His face lit up with the grin she knew, and she could not help her smile in return. "It's about time."

* * *

Night after night, the words came fast and furiously, the story weaving through her fingers to create a world full of demons and fairies and knights. There was a brave princess, and a mysterious stranger with green eyes. They journeyed together, trying to save the kingdom, trying to save their people, trying not to fall in love. It was nearing the end of the story, and as the pages flew by she began to get anxious. There needed to be a sacrifice, she could tell, she could see it as plain as day. But who? The knight, or the princess? Or both?

She handed in the next six chapters to be graded, and when they were returned the following week, her professor asked her to stay behind after class.

"I just don't understand why you are pursuing this," he scolded her when she came up to his desk. "I told you the last time that you needed to stay away from this type of writing. You need to do something personal."

"But this _is_ personal," she insisted. "I am feeling every word of this. I know it's not… it's not what I usually do, but—"

"I can see the influences clearly," interrupted her teacher. "You are rewriting Arthurian legend, correct?"

She frowned, shaking her head slightly. "I don't believe so. I don't really know much about that topic?"

"Let me guess," he huffed. "You identify with this—this princess, am I correct?" She swallowed and gave a little nod, blushing when he rolled his eyes. "That's even worse. A good writer never uses a self-insert character. It's just bad writing."

Breathing deeply she replied, "I understand. I promise, I will have this up to your standards by the final. I swear."

"This is half your grade, Elizabeth," he warned. "It better be."

Her mind was preoccupied during her next class, barely able to concentrate as she thought of green eyes and flashing armor and wings of white and black. It bothered her that her professor didn't seem to want to look beyond her work to see what was behind it. She needed to find a way to connect with the reader. Something was missing if he wasn't feeling it too.

When she got to the shop, she gave Lisa a wave and went straight to the blond's table. It had been a couple of weeks since he learned her name, and he liked to use it a lot. "Yo, Elizabeth," he grinned as she came over. "I was wondering where you are."

She just chuckled and looked at his spiky-haired friend, back for his third appearance. "Do you want a coffee too?" she asked.

"Don't you have anything stronger?" he grumbled, and when she answered no, he sighed, "Fine, coffee. Black."

When she brought the drinks, the blond smiled, "You know, Elizabeth, you haven't tried to guess my name."

"You're right, I haven't," she answered slyly, carefully setting the cup down in front of them.

The friend let loose a loud laugh, but he simply pouted. "Does that mean you don't want to know? I thought we were friends."

"Maybe if you tipped better," she joked, and was rewarded with a bigger laugh and a bigger pout.

"For that, you should let me take you out," he said.

She blinked in surprise, laughing herself. "Sorry, I don't date high schoolers."

"I'm not in high school!" he cried, his voice filled with fake outrage, his friend now laughing so hard he fell backwards out of the chair.

* * *

"What are you reading?" she asked one day. The weather had turned suddenly cold as winter was approaching, and the shop was a bit crowded. "You've been reading the same book for weeks."

"It's garbage, really," he answered. "Something I found on a rack somewhere."

She laughed. "What's it about?"

"You know: knights, dragons, a damsel in distress." Her eyebrows shot up and he grinned. "Like I said, garbage."

"You're not a fan of fantasy?" she asked. She plucked the book from his hand, careful to hold his place. Turning it over, she looked at the back, but curiously there was no summary. On the front cover was a painting of dark mountains, and a flashing sword stuck into the ground. _The Sword in the Mountain_ , by J. James, it read.

"Love it, actually," he replied. She looked down at his smile. "I like the escapism. I find it easy to connect to."

She nodded, but before she could say anything else Erin called her name. Hurrying back behind the counter, she helped with a rush of customers, and it was nearly a half hour later before she realized she never brought the blond his coffee. Quickly she filled a cup from a fresh pot and added extra sugar, carrying it over to him with an apology. "It's okay," he answered. "I saw you were busy. Plus, the story was getting good."

For a moment she hesitated, watching as he took a sip from the cup and returned his gaze to the book. Then, without looking up, he said, "Can I help you with something?"

"Yes." She sat down at the table, the first time in the weeks she had been serving him, and he sat up in surprise. He folded down his page in the book, something that made her absolutely _cringe_ , but instead she went on, "Listen, I've been—oh this is so weird to ask you."

"I'm intrigued," he laughed, leaning forward on his elbows.

"I've been writing a story, for my class," she said. "And I—there is something missing. I don't know, my professor hates it."

To her surprise, his eyes narrowed a bit. "Hates it, huh?"

"Um, yeah," she answered. "I guess—would you be interested in reading it? I really could use some feedback, and you're like a stranger, and it's weird for me to ask, but—"

"Of course I'll read it," he huffed, waving his hand back and forth. "And we're not strangers, you practically know my name."

Dipping her head down to hide a laugh, she said, "I'm off until Saturday, but I'll bring it then, okay?"

"Yeah, for sure," he answered. "I'll be here."

* * *

After three days of school, studying, and writing, she was actually ready to get back to work, if for nothing than to just look at something that wasn't a textbook or her laptop. Finals were approaching, and she had exactly two weeks to get her story finished and polished for the final submission. She had spent every spare moment editing, rewriting, adding, _anything_ to make the story seem more real and personal.

The night before she loaded the document onto her tablet and reread it nervously. Every word was meaningful to her, each character carefully crafted, each moment from her heart. If the blond didn't like it, she would have to scrap it and start over, she decided. But she was hoping to hear if he connected at all, was dying to know, actually.

Sitting on her bed in the dark, listening to the wind outside, she thought of the blond with the green eyes. She still didn't know his name, and was suddenly embarrassed for it. She should have asked him ages ago, so what was stopping her?

 _I just don't want to get involved_ , she told herself. There was too much going on, with school and work and finals coming up and this stupid writing assignment…

But he was involved, is involved, she had involved him. He was reading her story tomorrow. She needed his feedback for some unexplainable reason. Hell, he had practically _given_ her the story.

She prayed that night for an ending to the story, wondering if the universe was still listening to her.

* * *

It snowed overnight, and she was dismayed to see nearly a foot of snow on the ground when she got up for work. The shop was only two blocks from her apartment, but walking through this mess was going to be a nightmare. With plenty of grumbling she got dressed for her shift, bundling up in her warmest clothes and pulling on a pair of boots that she knew would be soaked by the time she made it. No one shoveled when the snow was still falling.

But somehow, someone _had_ shoveled, and her entire path from her front door to the coffee shop was completely passable. Piles of snow were on either side, but not down her block, or the next. Even the curbs to the street were visible and salted for ice. She quickly and easily made her way to work, getting there early despite the still heavily falling snow.

"You made it!" Erin cheered. "I wondered if I would be alone today. John already called and said he's not coming."

She nodded, not surprised. The manager rarely drove in if the weather was bad. "At least we can relax a bit today."

"That's for sure," snorted her friend. "We probably won't have a single customer. Maybe we can just close up and go home."

"Maybe…" She looked out the window, wondering if the blond would arrive. Probably not in this weather, she thought with disappointment.

An hour went by, then another. Not a single customer came in, and she was feeling incredibly antsy, her nerves making her jumpy. Finally as the snow began to let up, the bell on the door jingled and the blond came in, stomping his boots on the mat and pulling off his scarf. "Wow, it is bad out there!"

She laughed in spite of herself, relief flooding through her. Ignoring Erin's strange look, she poured a coffee, extra sweet, and carried it over to where he was laying out his wet things. "Yes!" he exclaimed, taking the steaming cup from her, sighing as he took a long drink.

"I can't believe you really came," she said quietly. "You didn't have to, you know."

"Of course I did," he answered. "I keep my promises."

Not sure how to answer that, she went back behind the counter and made herself a cup. "Erin, do you mind if I—?"

"No, no, go sit with him," she said. "I'm gonna go watch TV in John's office."

Once her friend was gone, she grabbed her bag and walked over to join him at the table. He watched as she took a seat and set down her cup. "Um, would you still want to—"

"Absolutely," he answered. "Hand it over."

With a little laugh she pulled the tablet out, opened the document, and handed it over. "It's not very good, I mean, I've been _trying_ to make it good, but—"

"Shh, I'm reading," he said.

She sipped her coffee, watching him intently, before realizing how silly it was to watch him. So she headed back behind the counter to find something to do, and glanced up at him every once in a while to find him always deep in concentration.

* * *

Erin groaned and leaned over the counter. "I wanna clooooooose," she whined.

Sighing, she said, "I know, but he's not done." She glanced up at the blond, still reading, sipping from what had to be his fifth or sixth coffee.

"I wanna go hooooooooome." Standing, Erin dropped her head back in a pout. "It's already dark. It's gonna be cold out. Let's just go."

"But—"

"I'm almost done," he called across the cafe. "Just go ahead, we can close up."

Erin laughed. "You can't close up. You don't even work here."

"Fine," he answered, lifting his eyes for a moment. "Elizabeth will close up. Just let me finish."

" _Fine_ ," Erin said back, grabbing her coat and shrugging into the sleeves.

With a gasp, she said, "Wait a second. You're just going to leave?"

Erin slung her purse over her shoulder and pulled her gloves on as she said, "Yeah, everything is done anyway. Just set the alarm and lock the door."

"But—"

Her friend gave a wink and headed out, the bell jingling as she left.

Now that they were alone, she nervously looked across the room. He had gone back to reading, and she fidgeted with her hands as she watched. Finally she wandered over to the window, looking out at the city for several minutes, still covered in snow. With the streetlights it all looked very mysterious, and she wondered if she should grab her notepad and jot some impressions down.

When she turned, he was looking at her, a grin on his face and his hands behind his head. "I'm done."

With a deep breath she nodded and walked over, sitting in a chair next to his. "Okay. Go ahead."

"There's no ending," he said.

She sighed. "I know. I feel… I don't know how to feel. I don't know how to end this." She smiled sheepishly at him. "I want to give them a happy ending, but I just don't know if it's in the cards, you know?"

There was a flicker in his eye, as if his forehead twitched, but she couldn't be sure. He didn't answer, didn't move at all, so she shrugged. "If you have any suggestions I'd love to hear them."

"You believe in magic, don't you?"

She blinked in surprise. "Um, I don't think so?"

"Sure you do. You can tell by the way you write." The corner of his mouth twitched as he nodded towards the tablet on the table. "You've seen magic, haven't you?"

She shook her head. "Oh. You don't believe in the supernatural or anything?"

"No, I don't."

"So nothing at all? Not fairies or witches or ghosts?"

"Of course not."

"So nothing mysterious has ever happened to you? Nothing out of the ordinary?"

"What does—" She paused, thinking. Yes, many mysterious things had happened to her, and she thought about her fairy godmother, the guardian angel. "I think everyone can think of _something_ that happened without explanation," she finally said slowly. "That doesn't mean there is magic."

"Huh." He scratched his cheek thoughtfully. "Well, I gotta say, I loved it. Even without the ending."

Her eyes lit up as she gasped, "Really?"

"Really really. I especially liked the green-eyed hero."

He wiggled his eyebrows at her, making her blush. "It's funny, you know…" She looked at him then, the warmth of his smile and the affection in his eyes putting her at ease. "I got the idea for this the day we met."

She expected him to be happy, but instead he jerked back a bit, as if burned. "You did?" he asked with a frown.

Clearing her throat, she answered, "Yes, I—I mean I know it's weird, but I—" She tried to find the words to explain, but all words seemed to escape her. They simply looked at one another for a long moment, until finally she went on, "I never wrote anything like this before. I never _felt_ anything like this before."

It was quiet, the air calm, and not even the city seemed to make any noise outside. His eyes were on her, looking straight _through_ her almost. The atmosphere between them grew thick, and she could see he wanted to say something. Finally he slid closer to her and asked, "What are you feeling, Elizabeth?"

"I don't know," she whispered. She was captured by his look, absolutely pinned by his eyes. "But there is something… something…"

He nodded. "There is something."

"Who are you?" she whispered.

He leaned forward, and her eyes closed as his lips pressed on hers. It was such a simple thing, just flesh against flesh, but she was first struck by how familiar it was: the shape of his mouth, the pressure, the taste. Curiously she tilted her head, kissing him back gently.

Suddenly she could see it all: the ending to her story. The knight and the princess save the day, and they are in love, _of course they are_ , her professor will _just love_ that. But love does not come without sacrifice, and she is gone. She is the offering for their slice of happiness, and he must go on without her.

With a gasp she pulled back, a choking sob rising in her throat when she meets the green eyes again, her lungs too tight. Hot tears stung her eyes as they stared at one another, and then slowly, carefully, he asked, "Elizabeth? Do you know who I am?"

"Yes," Elizabeth breathed, her heart bursting with the words. "You're Meliodas."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I've been listening to a lot of sad music lately. Not intentionally, but there you go. And this is what happens when you're waiting for a break in the chapters. Thanks to EJR Horselady for reading this over for me.

* * *

He had tried his best. He could say that for certainty, at least. No matter what happened, he tried his best to stay away.

It had been a little over a hundred and fifty years this time, not quite the record, but close enough. That's how long he had kept himself from purposefully seeking her out, of avoiding her, hoping that she could live a life without him. But the magic of the curse was strong even now, thousands of years later. Inevitably she would find him, and that would be the beginning of the end.

Still he hoped that by not looking for her, he would give her more years. Each time she was gone, he would go and hide away, to wait, to pray, to look around with sharp eyes hoping to avoid her. Six had come and gone in that time, but when he saw this one, he _knew_ it would be his undoing. She even had the silver hair, something the nurses in the office had exclaimed over when he brought her in for the initial examination.

He was owed a few favors, so finding parents wasn't an issue. She was so striking that he had really thought about raising her himself this time, but it was bad timing. His attention and help was being pulled in a few different directions, so with a struggling attempt to let go he selected the perfect family for his perfect goddess.

He moved into the city to make it easier to stay connected. So many times he had stepped in, thankfully unnoticed, to make sure she got a taxi or recover a lost permission slip. It made him happy to be able to do something. He was a part of her life while remaining separated from it. It was a mistake, but he figured it wasn't his first, and wouldn't be his last.

* * *

"Can I get you something?"

He stared at the words on the pages of his book for a moment before raising his eyes. It was such a risk coming in there, such a _goddamn risk_ and he was a _goddamn fool_ but goddamnit, he had to do this. He had to see her, and had tried to make a connection with the other girl in order to make sure _she_ never waited on him. It was a safe enough plan, he told himself. What a fool he was.

So he raised his eyes slightly, waiting to see if they would flash with recognition, widening as they took in his messy hair and green eyes, or remained passive and polite.

She shivered, and something happened, like a spark in the corner of the blue. "Do you…?" Her voice trailed off, and he braced himself.

He swallowed. "I'll take a coffee, extra sugar."

Nodding, she glanced at her pad, blinking herself from her stupor; then in a move he would have never guessed in a million years, her pencil began scratching about a mile a minute, and she wrote his order over and over again for a full ninety seconds. He would have laughed if it had not been so bizarre and unexpected. Was she okay?

"That's a lot for a coffee extra sweet!" he joked.

"Oh! Sorry!" She hurried off behind the counter, just like another waitress he knew.

* * *

"You're an idiot."

He rolled his eyes at Ban, stretched out on his couch. "You're one to talk," he muttered.

"You're chasing a fantasy," Ban warned with a yawn. "You know how this will end. I know how this will end. You keep this up, she's gonna know how this will end too."

"I'm not gonna do anything but talk to her," he muttered as he laced up his shoes.

With a huff his friend crossed his long legs and put his hands behind the pillow under his head. "Let me take a nap and I'll take you to a strip club. That'll help get your mind off of her."

He picked up an empty water bottle and threw it at Ban, who swatted it away easily. "You can be a real pain, you know."

"Yeah, I know. Don't make me any less right."

* * *

He brought his book with him the next day, and to his annoyance, Ban insisted on going. "Gotta take a look at this one," he said as they headed out the door. "You're more twisted up than you have been in a while."

He knew what his friend's response would be when he saw her; sure enough, he watched his red eyes grow large, and as Elizabeth walked back behind the counter, Ban muttered, "She's the closest one, huh?"

"Yeah," he sighed. He looked down at his book, this stupid book that she had given him about thirty years ago. It was an awful story, but she had loved it, so he had read it over and over again, remembering the way she would sit up in bed with wide eyes and a forgotten cookie in her hand. He smiled to himself, his hand smoothing over the bent yellow cover with the dark mountains.

"Anything else?" Elizabeth asked as she put down his cup. He looked up at the familiar blue eyes and put on a grin that felt bittersweet. "How about your name?" he asked.

She laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear. He was glad of that; the ones that hid the eye always brought out the painful memories. "I don't think so," she answered with a bit of a laugh.

"How about if I try to guess it?"

"Guess my name?" Her voice had that same lilt, and as he grinned he felt his heart skip a beat. They were talking, and it was so _dangerous_ and _perfect_. But then Ban ruined it by saying, "Cap, what are ya doing?"

"Just talking to…" He looked up and pursed his lips. The waitress sparked a memory and he said, "Margaret?"

Elizabeth laughed, and the sound sent a spark through him. "Not even close." She shook her head and walked away. He leaned over and watched, turning around in his chair, and when Ban kicked his leg he winced in pain.

* * *

 _Their swords clashed, sparks flying, as the two foes sparred. It had been years since he felt this way, an opponent with enough skill to be of interest. He wished he could see who was underneath the layers of clothing, amazed still by the fluid movements that were somehow unrestricted by the swirling fabric._

" _You are well practiced!" he cried with the next swipe. The other only grunted in response, and the fight continued, parry, parry, block, slash, until-_

 _He was on the ground, the blade at his throat._

 _But it was not the fact that he lost that he found surprising, or the clatter of his sword as the other kicked it out of his hand. No, it was the unusual pitch in the laugh that came from the furious one he had just fought. He frowned at first, wondering what was going on; then his eyes grew wide as saucers as he threw back his hood to reveal golden locks and the greenest eyes he had ever seen smiling down at him._

" _Princess Constance?" he cried out in alarm._

He groaned and shut the book. What a stupid chapter this was-one of the worst, but something Elizabeth had swooned over long ago.

Laying back on his bed, he thought about the waitress with the silver hair. His Elizabeth.

It was happening again, as it always did. He was falling in love with her. Over and over and _over_ like some kind of wound that never closed. His eyes closed as he sighed.

They had committed so many crimes, he and the Elizabeth with the silver hair. The chapter reminded him of her sword that she held clumsily, how he would laugh as he smacked her rear with the flat of his own blade. Not the huge sword that was gifted to him, of course- _that_ would have left a bruise on half of her precious body-but a regular one that had been given to him by an ally in Stigma.

Her silver hair was wound up on her head, something that was rare to see, her wings flapping once as they sparred. Elizabeth was skilled with a knife and with a bow, but wanted to learn swordplay as well. He could see the white uniform streaked with dirt, the perspiration on her neck, the way her eyes were determined, shimmering blue. He could see it all again, and again, and again, like it was yesterday.

So many crimes. Meeting, for starters; speaking, then, and smiling at one another. The brush of fingertips, then lips. The blood of the demons, then the goddesses.

His neck felt hot, and he quickly snatched up the book. Enough memories for one night.

* * *

Some well-placed investments years ago, along with a few tricks and a handful of favors owed to him had allowed for a comfortable life. Without needing to work, he would just do odd jobs around that interested him. He had even thought about getting back into the tavern business after meeting the waitress, but on the first trip to look at a space, he left with a bout of dizziness. Ban had looked at him strangely, but he had just shut himself in his room for a while, breathing in and out.

Ban had disappeared then for a few weeks, so he had deposited a few thousand dollars in his friend's account and left an extra key with the doorman. His friend did this, sometimes: just went away for a bit, presumably to drink until he forgot everything, although for all he knew he could be climbing the Alps or saving the whales or auditioning for _Britain's Got Talent_. It was an unspoken agreement that they would not talk about it, but he kept an eye on the account just the same. When it was empty, he knew to expect to come home and find the familiar tall frame stretched out on his couch unexpectedly.

He prepared for a couple of weeks at least of solitude, when he received an unexpected message. It was poor timing, in the middle of this Elizabeth thing, but he felt obligated to show up at the restaurant at the date and time of the invitation.

"You dressed up this time," Merlin said as he walked towards the table. She gave him an appreciative glance up and down, taking in the dark pants and jacket over the white shirt. "You shouldn't have."

He shrugged as he slipped into the seat opposite of her. The waiter quickly approached, and he watched as she looked over the wine list and ordered. She was as elegant as always, regal almost in the dress that would be indecent if it wasn't so expensive. If he had done well, Merlin had done better. But hadn't it always been that way?

"So what brings you to the city?" he asked with a flourish of his napkin.

Merlin smiled, waiting as the waiter returned to pour their wine. He left his untouched, but she picked up the glass and did a little swirl before bringing the drink to her lips. "Just checking on old friends," she finally replied. "I'm surprised you're here alone."

"Ban's away." There was a basket of bread on the table, and he picked one up and took a large bite. "So it's just me these days."

"That's not what I meant." He glanced up to see her smirking at him over the top of her glass. "I meant the other one. Why didn't you call me?"

"And say what?" he huffed. "It's the same as it always is. Nothing's changed."

"Really. What about the hair?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Could be a dye job-"

"Don't give me that." He took a deep breath as Merlin leaned in closer. "You know the silver hair means something. You should have called me right away. How old is she now? Eighteen? Nineteen?"

"Twenty," he whispered, his eyes closing briefly.

Merlin tsked, sitting back in her chair as she crossed her legs and folded her arms. "You should have called me twenty years ago. We could have been studying her."

Furiously he picked up his wine glass, but slammed it back down before taking a sip. "She's not an experiment, Merlin!"

"You're a hypocrite." Her tone wasn't accusatory or even spiteful. Merlin said this as if it were a simple fact. Which, of course, it was. "You want her and this curse broken, but you won't do anything to make it happen."

"We've tried, Merlin," he murmured, the fight now gone from him. "There's nothing to be done. All I can do is stay away from her."

At that Merlin laughed, her voice carrying through the room and making several of the patrons glance over. "And how well is that going?" she cried as he chomped into another breadstick.

* * *

They always responded to his teasing, both good and bad. So when Elizabeth ignored his jokes, he knew something was wrong.

He watched over Ban's shoulder as she slammed things around behind the counter. Then she spoke to the other one and headed towards the back. He slipped out of the booth, carefully laying the book upside down to mark his place. "What are ya _doing_ ," Ban groaned.

"Can it," he muttered, and headed out the front door. Autumn had taken a turn and given a nod to the approaching winter, so he could just see his breath as he walked briskly down the street and around the building.

He supposed if he had a dollar for every time his heart had seized at seeing the large teardrops streaming down the face he had memorized a thousand times, he'd be richer than he already was. But that was one investment he hadn't made, so instead he said, "You okay?"

Elizabeth started and looked at him in surprise. "What is your problem?" she cried, her voice tight with embarrassment and emotion.

As she confessed to him about her writing class, he imagined the professor on his knees, begging for mercy as he sliced him open slowly. "I'm sure it will be all right, Elizabeth." All right when the professor's body would not be found. "I can't imagine you failing at anything." Like he had failed to protect her, again and again.

"You guessed right," she said with a laugh. "My name. It's Elizabeth."

Only the daydream would have made him slip up and make such a mistake. But she looked almost touched, and her crying had stopped, so he grinned at her. "Is it?" he laughed. "It's about time."

Elizabeth nodded, sniffling as she giggled. "It's about time I get back too," she sighed. "Did you even get your coffee yet?"

"Nope." He had gotten something better.

* * *

 _The knight bowed. Going down on one knee, he held his hand over his armor-clad chest and recited the ancient words. "I pledge my life to you. I vow to protect you and the kingdom."_

" _Then rise as a protector of the realm," the king pronounced. He stood and locked eyes with Constance, beaming at him from the king's shoulder._

"Protector of the realm," he scoffed. What an idiotic idea. He turned the book over to look at the cover again, his fingers tracing the familiar worn ridges. One day he was going to hunt down J. James and strangle him for bringing such a curse on his already less than charmed life. Or hug him. Or both, who could know for sure.

His coffee arrived just then with apologies and extra sugar packets. "It's fine," he smiled at Elizabeth. She looked especially beautiful today. "I can see you are busy."

When she hesitated, he was surprised. "Can I help you with something?'

He was overwhelmed by her again when she sat and began to speak. It was surprising to learn she was a writer-had she ever been before? he couldn't remember that-but even moreso, she was absolutely radiant. The halting way she talked brought the unmistakable memories of another shy and stuttering girl. Back when he was a protector of a realm, and a girl with silver hair asked him for a favor.

"Would you be interested in reading it? I really could use some feedback, and you're like a stranger, and it's weird for me to ask, but-"

 _A stranger_. "Of course I'll read it." Ban would be having a field day if he saw this, he knew, but he didn't care. "And we're not strangers," he went on. _We're not strangers._ "You practically know my name."

Then came her laugh. "I'm off until Saturday, but I'll bring it then, okay?" chuckled Elizabeth. She dipped her chin down and blushed a bit, and his lungs tightened.

"Yeah, for sure," he breathed. "I'll be here."

Elizabeth stood and went back to work, leaving him to sit and stare at the cover of the yellow book. There was another girl, once, who did not know his name, but asked for his help anyway. He had fed her awful food and she had ran into the forest to escape the knights at the door. For a moment he felt heat on his neck, and it reminded him of the attack that he blocked with only his body as a large and ridiculously mustachioed Holy Knight concluded their demise.

"Meliodas," he said to the book. "That's my name."

* * *

"Who are you?" she whispered.

He leaned forward, breathing her in, every nerve in his body on fire. He watched as the large blue eyes closed, then kissed her. It was so familiar: the shape of her mouth, the pressure, the taste. He felt Elizabeth tilt her head to the side, and then she began to kiss him back gently.

Suddenly he could see it all: one hundred and forty-nine Elizabeths who had captured his heart, who had kissed him for the first time, who had sighed into his mouth when he tugged on her lower lip. He clenched his fists in his lap, wanting to reach out and grab her and hold her the way he had been trying not to imagine for days, weeks, years, centuries, millennia. She gave a moan that was like music.

With a gasp she pulled back. He looked at her then, a mixture of shock and fear, and when he heard her give a choking sob and saw the tears hovering in her lashes, he knew. _What have I done?_ "Elizabeth?" he asked, slowly, carefully. "Do you know who I am?"

"Yes," breathed Elizabeth, and his heart nearly burst with the words. "You're Meliodas."

Never had his name sounded so good, or so wrong. She smiled at him her beautiful smile, her blue eyes now shining with the golden runes of the goddess clan.

* * *

They spent the first night in his apartment. Ban made himself scarce after a brief catch up, but they just laid together talking, as they usually did the first night. They recalled memories and described their lives so far this time, filled in the blanks for one another, before going back, back, back all the way to the first meeting, the first time they held each other and whispered until dawn.

When dawn arrived, they took a bath together, and then he watched as she cooked them breakfast. He was just as grateful for the food as he was at the sight of her in his shirt, and when she set down the omelette in front of him, he grabbed her up and planted a breathless kiss on her lips. She laughed and threw her arms around him, and in less than a minute he had her pressed against the kitchen island, one hand under the shirt, the other on her hip. Her hands were sliding down the back of his neck, and he pulled away from the frantic kiss, pleased with the way she panted in its wake.

"We should stop," he said. "Before this goes too far."

Elizabeth nodded. "Your eggs will get cold. We need to eat first."

They did then, eating breakfast silently, their eyes on each other the entire time as they swallowed their food bite by bite. They finished at the same time, and once their silverware clattered into the sink her legs were around his waist as he carried her back to the bedroom, where they stayed the rest of the morning.

The afternoon went by with a mixture of napping and talking and rediscovering one another. The sun was going down, and he laid on the bed, the sheets a mess as she sighed from her place tangled against him. "I'm hungry," she complained.

"I suppose I should take you to dinner," he laughed. Elizabeth nodded and kissed his cheek, slipping from the bed to head into bathroom.

He sat up and pulled on his shorts, then noticed the blinking light on his phone. He swiped it open and saw the dozen missed calls from Merlin, followed by two colorfully worded text messages. With a deep breath he pressed the call button, and she picked up on the first ring. "What happened?" she demanded in way of greeting.

"Nothing," he bit out, but she was already angry. "I called you over and over. I told you if she remembered I needed to see her right away!"

"We were busy," he replied.

The laugh on the other end was dismissive. "I'm sure you were. Where are you now? I'm coming to you."

"Meliodas?" He looked up to see Elizabeth peeking around the door, her hair hanging to the side, her shoulder bare. "Can I borrow your toothbrush?"

"Tomorrow," he said into the phone. When Merlin began to protest, he said with finality. "Tomorrow. I need at least that." Then he ended the call and turned off his phone, turning with a smile towards his goddess.

* * *

"Are you okay?" Her voice snapped him out of his daydream, and he looked over the table at her, then down to where their fingers were laced together on the top.

"Yeah." He picked up his water glass and took a drink. "Just a bit tired. Didn't sleep much."

His wink made her blush, and she ducked her head to hide the rosy tint on her face. "Have you been here before?"

"Changing the subject?" he teased.

"Yes."

At that he really laughed. "A few times," he answered. "I usually do eat out, though nothing fancy like this place."

As if to make his point, the waiter came by with the bottle of wine he had ordered. He nodded his thanks and watched the waiter pour, thinking of when he had sat in this same restaurant with Merlin for lunch not that long ago. "Merlin wants to see you," he said when the waiter walked away.

"She does?" There was no hiding the surprise in her voice. "That would be lovely! But why?"

"You know why," he whispered.

Elizabeth pressed her mouth together and nodded. "I know there's been nothing learned but…" She sighed and traced a fingertip along the opening of her glass. "It will be all right. Even if it-if it happens-we've been through this before. We'll get through it again."

Her bright smile at him then felt like a knife. "Elizabeth…"

"We still have two days." Their eyes connected as her voice came out as a quiet breath.

He nodded and looked back down at their hands. Curling his fingers around hers, he rubbed his thumb over the fourth finger of her hand, where he had been waiting more years than he could count to place a ring. "Two days," he agreed.

As much as he tried, the mood was dampered then, and despite her easy smiles and the flirty conversation, his heart was heavy in his chest. So when they returned to his apartment, he asked if he could read her book again.

"Really?" asked Elizabeth as she went to her bag to take out the tablet. "You don't have to, you know."

"I want to," he insisted.

For the next hour, she made coffee and straightened up as he sat on the couch and read. When she was done, Elizabeth joined him on the couch, looking through her phone. Her legs were draped across his lap, his hand tracing her calf absentmindedly.

"You realize who this story is about," he said.

Elizabeth heaved a large sigh and covered her eyes with her arms. "I know," she moaned. "It seems so silly now. But it needed to come out, and I didn't understand why!"

"Makes sense now," he snorted, and she giggled in agreement. "But the ending…?"

Elizabeth stilled. "That seems silly too," she finally murmured, and he squeezed the hand on her leg. She sat up and faced his glare. "It's true!" she insisted. "I have two days and-"

"Don't say that," he said harshly, but she spoke over him, continuing, "I'm not interested in spending them on homework, Meliodas. I want to spend them with you, if you will have me."

"Of course!" he exclaimed. There was a momentary stand off as they stared at one another, until finally the tightness in his chest began to ease. "But as a reader," he went on slowly, a smile dusting his lips, "I want to know what you were going to do for the ending."

"Oh." Elizabeth bit her lip and slid closer to him, her brows down in thought. "Honestly?" she finally said, "I was thinking… love needs a sacrifice." Her eyes lifted in apology. "It's like the rule. To have true love, you have to give up something."

The pain in her expression made him kiss her forehead. "Not all the time," he teased. "Look at _The Sword in the Mountain_. All those idiots end up happily ever after."

"You _have_ that?" she squealed, and when he laughed and told her his copy was in the bedroom, she scrambled up and off. Moments later she returned, her mouth a perfect little O shape, her hands caressing the spine of the book as she sank back down next to him. "I _love_ this story," she sighed, closing her eyes briefly.

"Yeah I know," he laughed. "Never could figure out why."

She flashed him a grin and then quickly turned to settle against him, her head on his arm as she flipped open the book and began reading. He watched her for a moment then before returning his eyes to the tablet. They sat there for a while, Meliodas reading a story about who they were, as Elizabeth read a story about who they should be.

* * *

The next morning Elizabeth prepared to go. He did his best to keep his opinion to himself.

"I'll be back in two hours," she assured him. "I have to see them, Meliodas. If tomorrow… I can't do this to them, I can't." She picked up her purse and planted a kiss on his mouth. "I want my parents to see me happy, and have that memory. I'm having lunch with them, that's all. And hey, I want to tell them all about my great new boyfriend."

"Boyfriend," he snorted as she giggled and kissed him again.

"Merlin will be here at two," he reminded her.

"I remember!" she called with a wave of her hand.

He watched the door click behind her as she left. It was the first time he was alone, and it was the first time in a while he _felt_ alone. Deciding he needed to kill some time, he flipped on the television and went back to reading, not noticing the sirens wailing faintly in the distance a short time later.

* * *

Meliodas gave a sideways glance to Ban, who adjusted his tie for the hundredth time. "I hate wearing these stupid things," he muttered.

"You didn't have to, she wouldn't have cared."

"Nah," Ban scoffed. "Gotta look good for the princess."

The comment made him swallow thickly. The line moved, and as they got closer towards the end, he examined the homemade posters of her baby pictures, school pictures, prom pictures, graduation, trips to the beach, dance recital, friends, family, memories. She was beautiful throughout her whole life, a startling comment on how quickly it ended, how soon.

When they reached the end, Meliodas held out his hand to her father. "I am an old friend of Elizabeth's," he said carefully. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," the man replied gruffly, turning and looking up in alarm as Ban loomed over him. Meliodas turned to the woman sniffling next to him and extended his hand again.

"I'm sorry-" he began, but the woman gave a little gasp.

"It's you!" she whispered. "But how could it be you?"

He frowned and looked around nervously. "I think you have me mistaken-"

She leaned in and squeezed his arm. "You're the one from the hospital. Aren't you?" Meliodas shook his head, but she insisted, "The one who gave her to us?"

He was completely taken aback, but finally nodded. "Thank you," she said. "She was our most precious gift." Then he found himself in a shaky but firm hug which released after just a moment.

Meliodas was numb as he walked towards the casket. He could barely look down to see the still body that was inside. It was the one hundred fiftieth time he had seen this, and it hurt just as much as the first.

"Elizabeth," he whispered. "I'm sorry. But you were right. You're always right." With a sigh he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the faded yellow paperback. "I'm going to give this to you. I don't need it anymore, and you always loved it."

He tucked it into the silky lining, his fingers grazing her cold hand for a moment before pulling away. "I hope you don't mind if I keep your tablet," he went on, "because now I have something new to read. One day we're going to give the story a proper ending, okay?"

His pulse was racing, so he stepped away and hurried towards the door, grateful for the fresh air as he took huge, gulping breaths. Ban emerged from the funeral home a minute later, and together they drove back to the apartment.

Ban decided to walk around, leaving with a wave, so silently Meliodas headed inside. As he reached the door, he paused to hold it for a couple who were also entering.

The woman smiled at him tiredly, and on instinct he looked down at what the man was holding. It was a baby carrier, and for just a moment, he caught a glimpse of a pink blanket. "She's beautiful," he commented when the father thanked him. "What is her name?"

"Elizabeth," answered the woman, and Meliodas nodded. He stepped backwards, tilting his head, and when the baby opened her eyes at looked at him, he saw they were blue, and he smiled.


End file.
